― It is December already. The streets are covered with ice and my steps produce the dingle, jingle of Santa's sleigh. They're singing a song of frozen asphalt met by shoe spikes. Each steps takes me closer to town. It's been 6 months since we left our tiny paradise on Earth and moved to the big city. The bird songs are replaced by motors roaring and trains passing. ∙ We are adapting but that doesn't make me happier. I miss my forest, I miss my beaches. I miss the Great Tits that used to [...].